An Alternative Idea
by sing-oldsongs
Summary: Kirk is stressed. Spock helps him destress. KirkxSpock


_A/N: Written for the st_xi_kink_meme on lj, for the prompt "Spock giving Kirk a lap dance."_

**x**

"Dr. McCoy is worried about your health." Spock announces this in his matter-of-fact voice, his calm and logical voice, the kind he uses when he's made a decision that Jim is not to argue with. And truly Jim is too tired to deal with that, so he just rolls his eyes up to meet Spock's gaze and raises his eyebrows.

"That's great, Spock, thanks for sharing."

"He believes you are suffering from an excess of stress," Spock continues, as if Jim had never spoken. He's standing straight with his hands behind his back. It's a completely inappropriate stance for a quiet night in with his boyfriend but then, this is Spock, so it's to be expected. Jim leans back all the way in his chair and sighs.

He's about to say something in answer when Spock cuts him off, "I am, in this particular instance, in complete agreement with Dr. McCoy—"

"Well that's something I never thought I'd see, the two of you agreeing on something."

"And I have decided that there is only one solution."

"Surprise, unscheduled shore leave?"

He tries to put some excitement, even the forced sort, into his voice, but he can't even manage that. It's been a draining few months, just one Federation crisis after another and he's tired, he's so tired, and all he really wants is a good long rest. He tilts his head down and puts his hand to his forehead, thumb to one temple and first finger to the other, so his hand half covers his eyes. He can't see Spock and he can't hear him either so he's a bit surprised when his First Officer's voice speaks again, this time from right next to him.

"I had a different idea in mind," he says.

To most people, this voice is no different from the one Spock uses to talk about the latest science team reports, but to Jim, there's a subtle difference. There's a hint of teasing, a hint of, he would almost say, naughtiness, and when he looks up, he sees the corner of Spock's mouth is quirked up and his right eyebrow is just the slightest bit raised.

Slowly, a smile breaks out across Jim's face.

"Well," he says, and shifts so he's more comfortable in his chair. He tilts his head back to catch Spock's eye and lets his smile become a grin, a bit lewd, a bit teasing in its own way. "And what sort of idea _do_ you have, Commander?"

"It is in the best interest of the ship that you relax, Captain," Spock answers calmly. Then he steps a bit closer to Jim, and does the last thing Jim ever expected him to do. He stretches one long, thin leg over Jim's and he sits down right on Jim's lap, and puts two hands on Jim's neck and tells him, quite seriously, as if this were the most logical thing in the world, "And it is in _my_ best interest that you relax."

Jim wraps his arms around Spock's waist to keep his body steady and then, not even giving himself a chance to speak, he kisses Spock long and slow. He opens his mouth against Spock's and lets that hot Vulcan tongue slip carefully, teasingly, against his. This, this is how it should be, yes.

They don't have many opportunities to be like this. And even when they do, even when they seem to have all the time in the universe stretching out before them, Spock always stops. He always holds back. They're kissing desperately now, Spock's body pressed tight against his and Spock's arms wrapped around him, but still they're not so close that he would be able to tell if Spock were hard.

Eventually, they have to pull back for air.

"I feel more relaxed already," Jim whispers, his voice a bit more raw than he'd intended. He smiles a little. There's something in Spock's face, some frustratingly Vulcan expression he can't quite read, but if Jim had to guess he'd say it's nervousness. He carefully slides his fingers up beneath Spock's shirt, under the science blue and the regulation black, and rubs small circles into his hot skin.

"Your plan is working wonderfully, Mr. Spock, I am already...forty percent more relaxed than I was before."

"I find forty percent to be an insufficient figure, Captain."

Jim smirks at Spock's arched eyebrow, the way he carefully keeps his voice steady even though Jim's fingers are probably already beginning to drive him mad. "

I agree. A forty percent improvement is below your usual standard."

For a moment, he thinks Spock is actually about to argue with him, but instead he shifts pointedly on Jim's lap and asks, "Do you have any suggestions on how to improve my performance?"

Spock talks sex like no one else. He puts just the slightest suggestive hint into his voice and suddenly the sort of mundane words one might hear on the bridge on any given Tuesday sound filthy.

Jim suppresses a moan by turning it into a curious, "Hmmmm?"

"Well you could," he says then, quietly, "move a little closer."

Spock obliges, and presses his hips tight against Jim's.

"Better," Jim smiles, and then, just to tease, he takes his hands from Spock's lower back and moves them above his shirt again. He's holding Spock just lightly now, his fingertips running up and down his back.

Spock is breathing harder. The difference is slight but Jim hears it, feels it.

Spock leans down then and kisses him, just a short pressing of lips and tangling of tongues, and then he whispers right into Jim's mouth, "Tell me what to do, Captain."

Jim has to try twice before he can get his voice to work again. "Try--try moving against me a little, Mr. Spock," he directs.

Slowly, tentatively, he feels Spock shift over him, he feels those hips pressing into his and he knows Spock's hard now, can't believe he's hard already and maybe if he weren't so focused on how damn good this feels, weren't so completely distracted by his own dick beginning to get hard, he might wonder what did it, the "Mr. Spock," the fingertips at the small of the back, the long, slow kiss...

"My actions are pleasing to you, Captain?"

"Oh extremely so, Mr. Spock."

He realizes first that _he's_ a little breathless, then that _Spock_ didn't sound too put-together, just then, himself.

Stil, when he looks up and meets Spock's gaze again, he can tell that there's a hint of nervousness there, too. He's not so sure of himself. Spock, who is always sure, as confident and as stubborn as Jim himself, is anxious.

"Just keep moving, Spock," he whispers, his voice more gentle than commanding, and lets his hands slip down to Spock's hips, holding him gently there. "Press yourself against me. Lift yourself up a little and then back down."

Spock kisses him first. Jim's so surprised he doesn't quite have the breath for it, and then, before he's truly aware what's happened, Spock's lips are gone from his and Spock's hips are working against his again, his hard cock in those damn tight Starfleet issue pants pressing against Jim's. Spock puts his hands on Jim's shoulders and pulls himself up, slow so Jim can feel every bit of movement, chest against chest--he just wants to tear Spock's shirt off him and flick his tongue at one nipple, right at the right height now just for a moment--and then Spock shifts down again and his cock is pressed against Jim's once more. He shifts his hips without instruction so they rub against each other.

"Go slow, baby," Jim whispers. "Draw it out." His voice is so ragged his words are barely comprehensible, but Spock must have heard him, because his pace slows. He even draws back a little, teasing, so Jim has to force himself not to grab Spock's hips with all his force and press their bodies painfully tight against each other again. If Spock heard the endearment, he doesn't comment. Maybe he didn't even notice. His eyes are closed. There is a light green tinge on his cheeks, a bit of a darker green at his eartips.

It's agony, but wonderful agony, having Spock's body so close to his and yet he can barely feel any skin, just a slight sliver at the edge of his back where his shirt has ridden up his torso. Spock twists one of his arms between their bodies and grips it around Jim's waist for leverage as he rides up and down on his lap, a twist of the hips every now and again, driving Jim out of his mind each time he feels that slight quirk in their rhythm. Spock's other hand touches his cheek and pulls Jim's face to his for another approximated kiss.

Maybe it's the kiss that does it, in the end. Maybe it's how hot Spock's skin feels beneath Jim's fingertips, just the little bit of it he can touch. Maybe it's just that last twist of Spock's hips as he pulls his body up and then slithers it back down against Jim's--it doesn't matter. Jim feels himself on the edge and then, Spock's tongue flicking against his and his hips twisting over him--

He's only vaguely aware of Spock moaning deeply over him, some almost animal sound he makes and when Jim comes back to himself, he realizes Spock is blushing so strongly he almost looks ill, and that they've ruined two pairs of uniform trousers in all of twenty minutes.

Jim catches Spock's eyes. The other's gaze is a bit reluctant, but steady.

"Wow," is all he can say.

"For once, I find that your Earth expression is indeed the most accurate one to describe the situation," Spock answers. Jim smiles at the slight tremor he can't keep from his voice.

He wants to say something official like, "Thank you for your assistance, Commander," or perhaps something practical and beside the point, like "Guess we'll have to dig up those forms for a replacement uniform." Or perhaps something sappy and girly, like "I think I'm falling in love with you."

But none of those things sound right, so before Spock can stand up, before Spock can bring them back to the real world again, back to new uniforms, and new stress, and the next mission and the next planet and the next diplomatic meeting—before Spock can do anything, Jim puts his hands to either side of Spock's face and pulls him close, and gives him one long, good, proper kiss.


End file.
